Page 192 of Don't Leave Me

“Do you not love me anymore?” his voice was strained like the words stung him.

I shook my head and looked up at him, putting my hand up to his cheek, feeling sorry for him yet again. How was he capable of being so terrifying and then so tortured himself in the very next moment?

“No. I do love you. I will always love you, no matter what,” I admitted gently.

He nodded with relief. “Why don’t we get some more rest, sweetheart? It’s still early, and we have nowhere we need to be today,” he lifted the comforter up, inviting me back in.

I scooted my body next to his, laying my head on his chest, and I knew that we were both fucked up - that we both belonged together. I wasn’t perfect either. I didn’t deserve someone like Michael: a smart, level-headed, mentally stable, perfectly sculpted God. I deserved to be in tears next to the one who made me cry, who made me feel guilt and shame, but at least I knew we were on the same level. We deserved each other.

* * *

We didn’t leave the house for the next two days. I had discovered many bruises on my body, all over, and was horrified by how I just couldn’t remember how I had gotten them. I wondered if Jack really did do his worst. He had never left me bruised before; maybe a little raw, but never bruised. And Michael never left me bruised either, but he was gentle compared to Jack. Did Jack do it all because I asked him to? Or did he already have that urge to – was he taking his previous anger towards his sister out on me? Or did he have pent up anger towards me already, then happily succumbed when I begged him to do it? Either way, he treated me so gently and carefully the next two days, making me pancakes in bed and even bringing out my laptop for me – granted, it wasn’t connected to WiFi, but I could still write. But I couldn’t. My brain was mush, my hands were too weak, and all I wanted to do was be in Jack’s arms on the couch or in bed. I watched him work out in the loft, I watched him paint, I watched him as he mixed songs on his laptop, his headphones on his ears for half the night. He really didn’t want me to hear any more songs until they were totally finished and I had no problem waiting. I was afraid that the songs were angry, full of spite and heartbreak. I knew they were all about me, and Jack had warned me that they weren’t all nice. He had written them when I had gone back to Michael, again and again, he explained. He felt defeated.

“I have a meeting downtown today,” Jack explained as I dried myself off after we showered together.

I had refused to think of downtown, or Chelsea, since I had been with Jack. They both reminded me of Michael and I was doing my best to keep him in a secure, locked box in a hidden part of my heart.

“Oh,” I responded, almost with a frown.

I started to hate to be alone in that loft.

“Why don’t you go see Emily? It’s a meeting with the label so Adam will be with me,” he suggested cheerfully.

I perked up. “Okay.”

I think Jack could see that I was becoming depressed and he was trying all he could to keep me from sinking too low.

“And then we can all meet up for dinner,” he went on, trying to keep my mood up.

I smiled at him. He smiled back triumphantly.

I texted Emily as soon as we dried off: “The guys have a meeting. Want to do something today?”

She responded not even a minute later: “Duh. Mani/pedis in BK? There’s a place here in Cobble Hill I like.”

I smiled and showed Jack the text. He approved and 30 minutes later, Jack was walking me to the train.

“Please text me and keep me aware,” Jack said as he held my hand atop the subway entrance stairs of Delancey Street.

I nodded. “Of course. I love you. I miss you already,” I said sincerely.

I was becoming very codependent towards Jack and he could tell – he had already been codependent towards me since the very first day. I think he was enjoying it; he smiled at me warmly and took my face in his hands.

“I love you, my wife. I miss you always. Now go have fun,” he gently pressed his lips to mine.

And then I was off to Cobble Hill.

* * *

Emily decided to have me meet her at Adam’s apartment. I was greeted by a smiling Emily, not even dressed yet, as she led me into Adam’s small but cute apartment. There was exposed brick on one side of the wall, with dark grey paint on every other wall next to the couch, a few guitars strewn around with pedals and cords and small amps in the corner in front of the mounted TV. It was very well lived in, and I could see Emily’s touches in there already: she had a Vogue magazine on the coffee table, her shoes were by the front door, her makeup left on the dining table. I smiled as she led me into the small room and began to find something to wear in the closet.

“So, do you live here now or what?” I teased her, sitting down on the queen-sized bed.

She gave me her dimpled smile as she look back at me. “Kind of,” she shrugged nonchalantly, but I knew she was excited.

“I miss living in Brooklyn. Jack said we could find a place in Williamsburg soon,” I blurted out, my urge to talk about Jack overwhelming.

Emily shrugged on a semi-sheer dark green t-shirt. “That’s good! I know your heart belongs in the ‘Burg,” she teased. “How are you and Jack doing?”

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